Brothers
by Corriwyn
Summary: This is a story about Faramir and Boromir as kids growing up in Minas Tirith. It starts out when Boromir is thirteen and Faramir is eight. My second fanfic. please rr!


Ok, this is my second fanfic, I really hope you enjoy it. It's definitely not done, but I'll post   
  
new chapters as they come along.  
  
Love Always, Corriwyn.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and characters are completely works of J.R.R.   
  
Tolkien. The only character I claim as mine is Rhandë, and some of the other   
  
residents of Minas Tirith.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I'll get you, Faramir!" announced a thirteen-year-old Boromir to an eight-year-  
  
old Faramir, who was now scrambling up a tree. The two youths were in a   
  
pretend sword fight, with their dull training swords and Faramir had been   
  
chased into the tree by Boromir. Faramir had dropped his sword and Boromir   
  
was charging in for the "final" blow.  
  
"Don't Boromir!" Faramir frantically cried. He climbed a little higher after   
  
seeing Boromir drop his sword and start to climb up.  
  
"Faramir, stop this! I won!" Boromir was starting to get annoyed by   
  
Faramir's escape antics and wanted badly to win and end their game.  
  
"No you haven't! Not yet anyway!" declared Faramir, and with that, he   
  
jumped from the tree and ran to Boromir's sword, which he picked up and   
  
"stabbed" Boromir with.  
  
"Ha! I win!" Faramir said gleefully. Boromir on the other hand, wasn't so   
  
pleased.  
  
"No fair! You can't do tha—you cheated!" Boromir was at a loss for words.  
  
Just then, the midday horn rang throughout the city, down to the field in   
  
which Boromir and Faramir were and had been playing.  
  
"I'll race you to the tower!" Boromir shouted and took off running.  
  
"Hey-" Faramir started, but it was useless to not take up his brother's   
  
challenge, so he began to run after Boromir. Faramir caught up pretty fast,   
  
since he definitely had speed, but Boromir had longer legs and it was a matter   
  
of time before Boromir was very much ahead.  
  
They ran the seven levels of their city to the tower. Boromir was in the   
  
lead most of the way, but sometimes Faramir would pass him, who, would then   
  
put on a spurt of speed which would leave Faramir long behind him.  
  
They ran through markets and trading posts, through neighborhoods and   
  
guards, running to see who would win. They were nearing the tower and were   
  
both very much out of breath, when Faramir tripped. Boromir, not noticing,   
  
kept on running, leaving Faramir behind.  
  
He tagged the tower and declared, "I win!" Then he turned around to see   
  
Faramir sitting on the ground, crying. Boromir was very concerned. He ran   
  
back to Faramir, who was clutching a scraped knee.  
  
"Faramir, are you okay?" asked Boromir, concerned and stooping on the   
  
ground next to him.  
  
"My-my knee!" sobbed Faramir, whose breeches had ripped; a bloody knee   
  
showed through. Boromir ripped off the bottom part of his own tunic and   
  
wrapped it around his younger brother's knee. Just then, Rhandë, one of Lord   
  
Denethor's most trusted men of lore and the boys' teacher and guardian came   
  
out of the tower. He saw Boromir helping Faramir to his feet.  
  
"Boys! What happened?" Rhandë glanced from the boys' sweaty faces; from   
  
Boromir's concerned face to Faramir's tear-streaked one. Boromir spoke for   
  
both of them.  
  
"We-we were playing in the field, when-, when we heard the midday horn.   
  
We were racing and Faramir fell down and skinned up his knee."  
  
"Faramir are you okay?" Rhandë looked, concerned, into Faramir's tear-  
  
welled eyes. He nodded. "Well your father sent me to look for you two; he   
  
wants you to come eat lunch right away, but, judging by the looks of you two,   
  
he can wait a couple of minutes while we clean you boys up." He glanced from   
  
the two sweaty faces: Faramir's teary face turned to Boromir with a look as if he   
  
were the best brother in Middle Earth. He glanced at Boromir's ripped tunic,   
  
Faramir's wrapped knee, and the bit of blood, standing out against the marble   
  
white street.  
  
"You boys definitely need to be cleaned up first." He concluded.  
  
The boys nodded, and Rhandë gestured for them to go into the tower.   
  
Then, turning back to where Faramir had fallen, Rhandë took out a   
  
handkerchief and wiped the blood from the street and turned to follow them   
  
up the stairs of the tower.  
  
"Thanks." Faramir whispered to Boromir, still looking at his older brother   
  
admirably. Boromir squeezed his brother's shoulder reassuringly and in return;   
  
they continued walking up the spiral staircase. They finally got to their   
  
chamber, with Rhandë right behind them. 


End file.
